


Part of the Act

by KnightRepentant



Series: Last Angel in Heaven [1]
Category: Fallout 4
Genre: Gen, Interviews
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-17
Updated: 2017-08-17
Packaged: 2018-12-16 08:44:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11825163
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KnightRepentant/pseuds/KnightRepentant
Summary: He is the Fallen.





	Part of the Act

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Часть представления](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14170371) by [Blacki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacki/pseuds/Blacki)



“Let ‘em think the eyes o’ God are watchin’ ‘em down a rifle scope.”

I heard those words from behind a wall of blue smoke in the corner of the Third Rail. I saw grey eyes by the brief flare of cigarette embers, regarding me with neither malice nor cheer, merely with…patience. I’d come to this dive with no expectations, just questions. I’d heard the rumours, of course, news of a Vault unsealed hit Diamond City like a hurricane. I watched that gate from dawn to dusk, but the months rolled by and no blue-clad wide-eye stumbled down to the Great Green Jewel. Poor fool got turned around and fell into Goodneighbour, wish I could’ve seen his face when he met KL-E-0, Whitechapel Charlie, or  _Hancock_. But he caught on pretty quick to what kinda town Goodneighbour was, it seems. Put down enough Triggermen in his first month to wake the mayor out of his latest haze. Hancock tried to make him into the town’s poster boy, smart move don’t get me wrong, but it didn’t sit right with our mutual friend. So he left, with a storm at his back, and headed back north. I had a rumour fly in every week or so that he’d been spotted at some farm or other, a bed and a meal for the blood of whatever scum was harassin’ ‘em. More’n one of ‘em called him a ‘guardian angel’ before he went on his way. Eventually I got sick of waiting, dug out my 10mm and snuck over to Goodneighbour…

 –

“So, people ‘round here call you ‘the Fallen’, isn’t that a little…dramatic?” The man scratched at his three-day shadow with a grin,

         “Well, ‘guardian angel’ was a bit too broad, y’know? Makes you think o’ some shinin’ gold fella in a nightshirt, don’t it? But when some gang of raider piss-heads hears that the Fallen is around, they know it’s me. And when they look up and see this,” he gestured to his long coat, teal scarf and his wide-brimmed hat, “lookin’ down at ‘em,  _that’s_  when they shit themselves. All the best heroes have costumes, am I right?” He took a gulp of liquor with a sly wink.

         “So…what you do out there, protecting people? Killing raiders? Is that part of the act as well?” The bottle descended slowly to the table, and those thundercloud eyes drilled into hers,

         “No. I know what kind o’ world this is. You grew up here, lived in this rad-blasted pit. If you’d seen it back before the war, seen the green grass and the trees, you might be crackin’ raider skulls too, instead o’ printin’ leaflets.”

         “What are you talki-, what war?”

         “The only war that  _mattered_ , darlin’.” Realisation stilled Piper’s pencil and her breath,

         “You were alive before the Great War.” His gaze never wavered from over the rim of the next glass.

 –

He had a reputation now, amongst the various raider tribes of the Commonwealth. The filth found themselves looking over their shoulders now, scanning with reddened eyes every ridge and treeline. This one wasn’t like the rest. The toughs in Diamond City and Goodneighbour gave up the chase at the gate. This thing was relentless, _vindictive_ , a faceless hunter in a hat and coat, that bright scarf always clearly visible. Day after day its shadow followed them, never hurrying, never faltering. On the clearest days they feared any open ground. Sometimes a brave soul would make a break for the next cover, lungs burning, blood thundering in their ears. Then the shot would ring out, like lightning, and the grass would be stained in crimson.

Night brought no comfort either, the glow of their fires never reached out far enough, it seemed. There were no footsteps, no rustle of leaves, but when they awoke the one on watch would just be gone. Some would weep and, too afraid to run, they would be left behind. A while later, the others would hear a distant scream. One,  _only_  one, would make it back to whatever ruin their band used as a base. The boss would rage and punish the survivor, only to look up and see the hat and coat standing in the distance. He’d try to whip his grunts into a war party, threaten and maim, but very rarely would the Fallen need to retreat. Then, months would pass, no new meat would join. His band was marked, branded, cursed beneath the gaze of the Fallen.

 –

The rising sun struggled to pierce the layer of grime and dust on the factory windows. Jared didn’t notice. Eyes reddened by the long list of chems boiling inside him and four days without sleep never left the plain door across the factory floor. He wanted to yell for one of his thugs to bring him a cigarette, but every time he remembered that they’d all gone, either killed on watch or run away in the night. The nights were the worst. Every clank of metal, every drop of water, every groan of the pipes sent his eyes reeling in all directions. The blowing wind became stalking footsteps, billowing cloth became that godforsaken coat. Now he was a trembling wreck too afraid to leave his seat, a pipe pistol waving in an unsteady grip. The door handle had turned and light fell upon Jared’s face before his brain registered the change. The pistol spat lead wildly at the open portal until his ears rang, but through the smoke hissing from the barrel, Jared saw only empty air, and the parking lot beyond. Every muscle in his legs burned, but he staggered like a drunkard leaving a bar out into the cold spring air. The sky was patched with clouds, drifting lazily on the high winds. Below, the air was still, apprehensive, and all Jared could hear was his own rasping breath. A brief whistle split the silence, from…behind. Tears sprang to Jared’s eyes. His pistol swung around, and he saw for the briefest moment a tall figure perched on the roof over the door. The flash of the rifle was the end of his sad, savage existence.

 –

“That’s…pretty dark.” Piper finished scribbling furiously the tale of Corvega plant. The Fallen drained his glass,

         “I read his journal, darlin’, he deserved a lot worse. I don’t deal in worse. Real justice is quick an’ clean.” Piper knocked back her own drink, grimaced at the taste, and flipped over the page.

         “Okay, I think that’s all I need for now. But, as a closing statement, I’d like you to address the people of Diamond City, and the Commonwealth I guess, directly. Is there anything you wanna say to them?” Grey eyes stared blankly over the rim of his glass as the seconds ticked by. He never met her eyes, only to speak slowly,

         “Don’t matter how many times the storm knocks you down, only matters that you’re standing when the sky clears. They’ll know what it means.”


End file.
